


As You Like It

by Ayla221bee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Developing Relationship, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Secret Relationship, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29808600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayla221bee/pseuds/Ayla221bee
Summary: ' He hadn’t taken a risk in years or had taken a change, hardly stepping out of his comfort zone.'Greg Lestrade is an actor who is fed up with being typecast, only playing the same three roles in different films, and is wanting to take a risk, auditioning for a West End play with leading actor Mycroft Holmes, who is secretly a fan of Greg's despite his skepticism of Greg.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 17
Kudos: 60
Collections: JustMystradeThoughts Plot Bunny Adoptions





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt by Paia and the Mystrade plotbunny adoptions: 'Greg is a leading action film star, but he's tired of being typecast. To change gears, he joins the cast of a new Broadway play, besides famous thespian actor Mycroft Holmes.' 
> 
> Not too sure where this is going to go or if I should continue, I was just wanting to write something less angsty than what I've been doing so recently, I hope that it is alright! My knowledge on theatre is lacking a lot, basing what I know on community theatre so any errors are mine!

He hadn’t taken a risk in years or had taken a change, hardly stepping out of his comfort zone. He had wanted to push past his boundaries as an actor for years, finding it difficult to escape from the films that he had been cast in since he was in his twenties but the opportunity was never there or he had been too afraid to do so. 

He had passed up so many opportunities out of his fear of taking a risk in his career. He knew that one bad role would possibly slow down his career to a halt and it was much easier, safer to not step out of his comfort zone or the roles that he was known for. 

He knew that he had been typecast since he was in his twenties. It was a sickening feeling knowing that he couldn’t grow as an actor, being stuck in the same roles and only being known for a particular character that he played when he was ten years younger. He had ambitions to do plays or a musical, just anything different, but found himself stuck with the same scripts for different films and unable to move away

He had a handful of roles that he could play in a film; an action hero, a character who was in the police, or he was the lead in a romantic comedy. He wanted desperately to expand past those roles but lacked the confidence to do so. 

He believed that he only got the roles, sometimes without even an audition depending on the director just for his looks. He had been considered to be a heartthrob back in the day before he went grey, his face was plastered in magazines for teenage girls. The directors and members of the casting team knew that he would at least bring in an audience of the women who used to fancy him when he was much better looking and less jaded about his career. 

  
He knew that it would break so many of their hearts when they found out that he was gay. His old agents told him to keep it a secret, making him take his friend Sally with him as his plus-one for events to keep the press off his back.

  
He looked over the script and sipped at his coffee. It was different from the usual material that he was sent on a regular basis. It wasn’t even a film. 

He brushed the flakes of croissants off the page of the script. He had no idea why John had suggested meeting up over brunch, he believed it to be the messiest of all meals. “It’s different,” he said in response to John’s question. “How did you find out about this?”

  
John wiped his fingers with the napkin and folded it carefully on the plate. “I was asked if I was interested in seeing it but I don’t know if it is my cup of tea. I doubt that Sherlock would be too thrilled if I ended up taking it, he would hate for me to be in a show with his brother. I wouldn’t like it that much either; his brother is a pretentious git.”

He had only met Sherlock a few times even though he and John were in a relationship. He usually ended up on shows that toured and were often away for weeks or months at a time, practically hibernating for weeks at a time when he came back home and refused to see anyone apart from John and a few close friends. There was often the joke of him being far too antisocial for an actor among their mutual acquaintances among with the comments about how he was very selective in his choice or roles while John was fortunate enough to get into anything that he fancied doing from an online series to a fantasy film or a zombie film, his everyday man looks allowed him to fit into any film that he turned his hand to. 

“Who’s his brother?” Greg asked, sipping at his coffee do I know him. “Do I know anything that he’s been in?”

“Mycroft Holmes,” John said. “You’ll know how he is when you see him, he’s got this air about him. Tends to be on the stage for the most part but he cannot resist a period piece. I just reckon that he likes to do them in order to dress up. He’s done a few films as well and ended up on an episode of Doctor Who, apparently, he lost a bet with his agent to get him on that. He tends to keep screen appearances a bit quiet, and cares more about being on the stage.” 

“I’ll have to look into him,” Greg said. His manners were the only thing that stopped him pulling out his phone and looking up this Mycroft Holmes. The name was familiar, he must have at least watched a program that he was in. It must have been a big enough deal for him to be cast, practically have the role written for him and didn’t need to audition. The director apparently begged to have him in the show, only taking up the role as a favor. 

“Are you thinking about auditioning for the role?” John asked, taking the script from Greg and flicking through it. “It’s not my normal thing but I reckon that it is going to do rather well. You would be suited for it.”  
  


Greg shook his head and let out an undignified snort. “It’s a play with singing!” he said. “I’ve not been on the stage since drama school. Have you seen the films that I’ve been in recently for the last ten years? It’s either an action or a romance.”

“Then more reason to go for it,” John said with a shrug. “You aren’t getting any younger and you are always complaining about how much time you had to spend with that personal trainer to get ready for your last film and the diets you were on for it.”

“It’s not like I’m going to get it,” Greg said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “No director is even going to look at me and think that I’m suited for anything else other than what I’ve been in. They would probably laugh at even seeing my name on the audition list. I’m typecast! I’ve been so since I was in my twenties. Besides, I’m not a proper actor. You’ve seen the reviews for my last film.”

“The Guardian said that you were the saving grace of your last film,” John reassured him. “If that isn’t a sign that you should take a risk then what is.”

Greg shoved the rest of the croissant in his mouth, refusing to dignify John with an answer. He reluctantly took the script home with him after brunch and after several glasses of scotch, emailed his agent. 

* * *

Mycroft looked at Anthea over the top of his glasses and put down the script onto the table. He was not sure if he wanted to laugh or start to despair at what she had said. “Greg Lestrade is auditioning for the show? The same Greg Lestrade who spends half of his time in a film posing around with his shirt off and with a woman on his arm?”

“I take it that you are a fan,” Anthea said, a smirk threatening to make its way onto her face. “You have to admit that he is attractive. I didn’t think that you would watch those types of films, a bit low brow for your tastes.”

“I happened to catch a glimpse of something when I was looking for a documentary on the television,” Mycroft bristled at what she said, taking a sudden interest at the painting above her head. 

“Don’t you have a few of his DVDs?” Anthea said knowingly, not attempting to hide her smirk. “I think that I saw a copy of his newest film on your shelf the last time that I was around.”

He briefly wondered why he continued to employ Anthea as his agent and his acting personal assistant or why he had considered her to be a close friend or the closest thing that he had to one. “I do not know what you are talking about,” he said, feeling his ears went pink.

It was a silly crush that he had for years on Greg Lestrade, one that should have ended as soon as it arrived. It was a silly film that had ignited this silly crush on Greg all these years ago. It was one of his early films when he had just started out as an actor, a period piece set in Cambridge about forbidden love. It was one of the first films that Mycroft had found himself able to connect with and was able to see someone like him on the screen and to have it end rather happily. It was a favorite of his and he had watched it far too many times and it had partly inspired him to be an actor. 

“Might be a good thing to have Greg audition for the show,” Anthea said, scrolling through her phone. “You might even get an autograph out of it.”

“He’s not even auditioned for the role,” Mycroft said with a sigh. “Who else has the director considered? You must know about this, you seem to know everything that is happening with this show before I do.” 

  
“A few new starts and someone who was on a soap, he’s deciding to branch out a bit,” she said. “If you ask me, Lestrade is the only one so far who is most likely to get this than anyone. You like the script and there is potential for it to do well. Greg could do well in this, you know that he's a good actor, he is just stuck in those action films. He’s often the best part of some of those last films that he has been in.” 

“You have already arranged a script reading with him, haven’t you?” Mycroft asked, doing his best to sound unimpressed with the prospect. He tried to ignore the jolt of excitement that ran through him and the anxiety about messing up his lines in front of Greg. He would have to pick a suitable outfit for the occasion.

  
“Friday afternoon,” she said, not moving her eyes up from her phone. “Try to be on your best behavior, you don’t want to be embarrassing yourself in front of Greg and acting like a fan. You might be able to get a photograph or an autograph.”

Mycroft let out an undignified snort, rolling his eyes. He tried to pretend that he was certainly not excited about the reading. Friday afternoon could not come quick enough. 


	2. Chapter 2

The January air nipped at his cheeks as he walked along the streets to the theatre, not quite lost but only with a vague idea of where he was meant to be going. His fingers felt numb from the cold and made Greg wish that he had worn something more practical to wear or at least brought a pair of gloves with him as he left his flat in Brixton. 

He fished out his phone from his pocket, his fingers shaking and making him nearly drop the phone as he tried to read the directions that Molly sent him, plugging them into the maps app on his phone. 

He can’t believe that he had once known Soho like the back of his hand or at least pretended to do so when he was in his twenties, overly confident and less jaded about the world. He can’t believe how he used to stay up at three in the morning in clubs and kiss any bloke that he liked back then, those days were long past him, and he often found himself viewing them from tinted classes. He could only remember the parties and the blokes, deliberately ignoring the hangovers that he used to get and his bank statements. 

The streets were busy and allowed Greg to walk invisible in the crowd to the theatre. He never minded when he got recognised in the street especially by children, they shouted out his character’s name at him from when he was in that silly superhero film years ago and asked him why he was in London instead of New York with the rest of his team fighting crime. He always said the same thing; his character was on secret business to protect the Queen and that they had to keep it secret. 

Adults were a different story. They always tried to take discrete pictures of him to sell to the magazines or to post online. He wouldn’t have minded if they had asked for a picture, they always seemed to get him at unflattering angles and usually when he was eating when they tried to be sneaky. 

Still, a picture of him shoving a burger into his face was much preferred to the pictures and the stories of him that could go into the papers. He knew that he couldn’t and shouldn’t complain too much. 

He found the theatre after several more minutes of walking around, a small building that was tucked away in a side street near a bar that he used to go to when he was in his twenties. He checked his phone, realising that he was still a good bit early despite getting lost. 

He shuffled from one foot to the other nervously as he waited outside the building, scanning the script for  _ The Road Not Taken  _ in the attempt to see if he had actually remembered his lines or not. He knew that if he didn’t know them now that he wouldn’t know them now. 

He was going to mess up this audition, he just knew it. He didn’t even know why he had decided to go for the audition, the script was good and it spoke to him. He found himself relating to Alan: a closeted man who had to decide between staying in his working-class community or being with his posh bloke who could give him everything and a better life. It was set in the eighties and Greg felt rather nostalgic as he read the references to them in the play and listened to the music that the director thought about using. 

As much as he liked the play so far, he knew that he wouldn’t be considered for the role. He was way out of his mind for even phoning his agent, Molly, to get him an audition. It was a decision that wouldn’t have been made if he hadn’t had several glasses of scotch in him.

  
He walked into the building and ended up waiting in the hallway, the script still clutched in his hands. A woman sitting on a chair with her eyes glued to her phone glanced at him a few times, quickly into her phone with a smirk on her face. 

Greg sighed and moved across the room, disliking the feeling that he was being watched. He wondered if she was a paparazzi or he had gotten a stalker that he didn’t know about. She couldn’t have been, she was much better dressed than the usual lot who took pictures of him. He checked his phone and put his name on social media; not a single recent post about him other than a fanart picture that someone had drawn of him from an old film, he made sure to like it, but there was nothing recent.”

“Are you auditioning?” Greg asked, doing his best to sound polite. 

The woman shook her head and smirked at him, not looking up from her phone. “I’m Mr. Holmes’s agent,” she said. “He is just running a bit late, the audition should be starting soon though.”

Greg swallowed hard and shoved his hands into his pockets, a bundle of nerves tangled uncomfortably in his stomach. He shook his head at himself, still not able to believe that auditions still made him nervous after so many over the years. “Mycroft Holmes is coming to the audition?” he asked. 

“He likes to know who he is working with,” she said. “He likes to sit in the auditions. It’s unconventional but Mycroft always gets his way.”

  
“A bit of a diva then?” Greg asked. “You can tell me, it’s not like he is around.”

The woman didn’t say anything but let out a snort, giving Greg all the answers that he needed to know about Mycroft Holmes. He wondered what Mycroft would think of him and thought about what he would think of Mycroft, he could never stand for snobs and divas on jobs especially ones who acted like they were better than everyone and so entitled because they had been on the screen. He really couldn’t stand when they were rude to the staff during shoots and their fans.

“I’m sure that you have your work cut out with him then,” Greg said, leaning against the wall. “Where is he now? Arguing with the director about the auditions?”

“His brother,” she said simply. “Can you do me a favor?”

  
Greg nodded. 

She pulled out a notebook and a pen from her expensive-looking handbag that was on the floor and handed them to Greg. “ Can you sign this?” 

“Of course,” he said, offering her a smile. “ Is it for you? Do you want it to say anything in particular?”

  
She shook her head, a smile tugging up at the corner of her mouth. “Your name will be more than enough. He is going to murder me for doing this.”

  
Greg opened up his mouth to ask but closed it again when he caught a glimpse of the figure by the door. He suddenly felt underdressed for the audition when he saw Mycroft Holmes saunter, more like a strut, down the hall in an expensive-looking coat that billowed behind him slightly which made Greg think of Sherlock's, and a suit. His eyes were piercing and Greg felt them go right through him. He stopped in his tracks for a moment, scanning Greg carefully as if he could, and was interested in finding the smallest detail about him. 

  
Greg stood up straighter as if a steel pole had been put up his back upon seeing him, forcing himself to appear more confident than he felt. He tried to look unimpressed with Mycroft walking into the theatre as if it was a fashion show and that he was the main attraction, he found it to be the best thing to do with the divas that he had worked with. 

He was more attractive in person than Greg had expected, he had to be, the makeup that he wore when he was in that episode of Doctor Who was not the most flattering and he wasn’t wearing a ridiculous wig in those clips of a period drama that he was in from the clips that Greg had found online. 

  
He thrust his hand into Greg’s giving him a strong handshake. “ I’m Mycroft Holmes,” he said, his voice rich and sounding rather warm. “I do apologise for keeping you waiting, the director should be here in a moment.”

  
“I know who you are,” Greg said cheerfully, giving Mycroft a smile. 

  
“Have you seen anything that I’ve been in ?” Mycroft asked, sounding rather pleased. “I’m much better on stage than I am on television, acting translates better on there and I-”

  
“I read your Wikipedia page,” Greg said. “I did get a few clips of you on a few things online, the period dramas with you in the silly wig, and the episode of Doctor Who.”

Mycroft seemed to deflate momentarily before he bristled up, removing his hand from Greg’s. “I would prefer to be recognised for my work on the stage,” he said. “ I’m surprised to see you here, aren’t you usually doing some action film where you spend most of it with your shirt off? Isn’t that the reason why people see your films? This might be out of your area.”

“Thought that I needed a change,” Greg shrugged, his lack of reaction bothering Mycroft. “I thought that I would give the personal trainer some time off since my last three films, thankfully I saw the script and I should be able to keep my shirt on this time when I get the role, shame it might stop people going to see the show but I'm sure that we'll manage.” 

Mycroft cleared his throat and Greg believed that he could see some color on his cheeks, it might have just been the light, he excused himself to get some water. He had the feeling that he had lost any chance of getting into this play after his brief interaction with Mycroft Holmes.

* * *

Mycroft left the audition room without a word the moment that Greg uttered the last line. 

  
He hadn't expected the audition to go like that or for Greg to be any good. He hadn’t had any hopes about this audition, the last two people who he had read lines with had done awfully and were stunted, one was terrified of him and couldn’t utter out the line and the other had left half-way through the audition, deciding that he had enough after going through the scene several times. 

Greg had surprised him. 

He had expected him to fail and not impress him in the slightest, or at least get a line wrong. He had found himself almost disappointed when Greg had done surprisingly well on the audition for someone who had been in some awful all-action and no plot films over the last few years. He had passed every expectation that Mycroft had set for him and more. 

He certainly didn’t flush when Greg winked at him before the scene started and shot him a mischievous grin after a particularly sarcastic comment that he had made. 

  
He stopped in his tracks when he heard the soft click of Anthea’s heels on the laminate floor, turning around to face her. 

“You like him,” Anthea said with a smirk. “That audition went well and Greg is surprisingly good, don’t you think?”

“He is one of the better candidates,” Mycroft said briskly. “He is awfully full of himself.”

  
Anthea snorted. “And you like him”

Mycroft shook his head and folded his arms across his chest with a sigh. “I’m refusing to work with someone who doesn’t have an appreciation for theatre or my work or one who jokes around. It is serious work that we are doing here and he simply cannot saunter in here and make jokes when he has been in some questionable films over the years.”

“We can get him to take his shirt off if it makes you feel better,” Anthea said. “You can’t be too fussy with who you work with. I was talking to the director and I think that you’ll agree with me but Greg was the best one out there and has the most potential. We can’t wait around for you to find a perfect co-start or you are going to be off the show.”

Mycroft let out a sigh and shook his head, frustrated that no one had thrown him off the way that Greg Lestrade had done to him, unsure if he found it unacceptable or intriguing. 

  
“If I have to choose someone, I want Greg,” he sighed. “He is the only actor that I am willing to work with...he is the only one who seems to be able to understand the character and not because of your silly idea that I like him.”

  
“I’ll tell David for you,” Anthea said with a smile. She rummaged around in her handbag and handed him a notebook.

  
“He’s already got the part, hasn’t he?” Mycroft asked.

“I got this for you and I managed to get a bit extra added when you left,” Anthea said, purposely ignoring his question. “This should make you feel better.”

He carefully inspected the page and felt his ears turn pink when he saw Greg’s name scribbled on the paper. There was another scribble on the page under the page, the ink still fresh and smudged slightly. Mycroft felt his stomach knot tightly when he realised that the number on the page was Greg’s phone number and a request for them to go for a drink in messy handwriting. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank so you much for the comments and kudos in the first chapter, I'm so pleased that someone wanted to read this silly story of mine and I'm writing more! All your support is appreciated and loved!


	3. Chapter 3

He spent more time than he would have cared to admit preening himself for meeting up with Greg. He had bought a new outfit for the occasion and had his hair touched up that morning, disliking how the red hair that he detested was making an appearance along with a few grey hairs. 

  
He had spent hours the night before researching the location of where Greg suggested that they meet up, wanting to be prepared for the occasion. He had inspected the menus in case that Greg wanted to eat something, deciding what meal that he could potentially have, selecting items that wouldn’t spill, smell badly, or end up getting stuck into his teeth. 

He had even prepared conversation topics for the occasion, he knew that he was awful when it came to talking to people outside work, not having much in common with them other than work. 

He missed the chance to go to cast parties and bond with his fellow classmates when he was studying at RADA due to his brother and already being too much of an outsider to the group. He missed aftershow parties and was rarely invited to occasions after rehearsals by his co-workers, partly declining the invitations himself as he found them not as serious about the show as he was and he disliked how they messed around in rehearsals. 

Anthea had encouraged him to be more friendly and less pretentious, for that would allow him to be more liked but he saw little point in trying to change to impress people that he would only see for a short amount of time until the next project came around. 

He did attempt to bond with his fellow actors at the start of his career, hoping that he would have more of a chance to make friends (not that he was in desperate need for them, thank you very much), then when he was in studying. He had assumed that he would be able to make friends as easy as his fellow actors, being able to bond with others through the show and the long rehearsals, the show being the thing that they all had in common, but he struggled to do it with as much ease as the rest of the cast did. 

He gave up after several failed attempts, deciding just to focus on his work. It was less painful to do so. It was much less embarrassing than to admit that he had a desire to connect with someone else. He wasn’t lonely. He couldn’t be lonely, he had Anthea and an established career.

He wasn’t trying to impress Greg or get his attention. He might have admired him and had a silly fancy for him that had been with him with his teenage years. He would have done the same if he was meeting up with anyone else or his own mother. Greg wasn’t any different, he was just wanting to make a good impression. 

He knew that it would only be a matter of time until the show would be over and it would be the last that he would ever see of Greg. He doubted that their worlds would ever interact with another again and he wasn’t likely to bump into him again. 

Greg was already in the pub by the time that Mycroft had arrived, looking considerably underdressed despite the location. Mycroft didn’t know what he had been expecting, Greg always was considerably underdressed during events and wore jeans and a t-shirt unless he was at a fancy event. He always looked as if he was an ordinary person who had accidentally turned up for a television interview or some other event. not quite believing that he was actually there. He was undressed but always looked well put together with an air of ‘cool,’ surrounded him. It was no wonder that people idolised him, especially young people who liked his superhero films. 

He was sitting by a table by himself in a tight-fitting shirt and jeans, wearing a worn leather jacket that Mycroft had seen in magazines and online, and Greg often wore it during interviews. He scrolled on his phone, working on a pint by the time that Mycroft caught sight of him. 

He lifted his eyes from his phone when he caught sight of him and looked at him with a grin that was just for him. Mycroft felt himself go weak at the knees, feeling considerably special that Greg Lestrade had just smiled at him. It would be something that he would keep with him for the rest of his life, unsure how he would mark the occasion but he wanted to trap the feeling and keep it within him, not wanting to let it go. 

“Mycroft!” Greg said with a grin, standing up from the table to shake his hand. “How are you doing? It’s great to see you!”

Mycroft blinked, suddenly feeling rather unprepared for that question. He wondered why it was so difficult to answer this question all of a sudden. He couldn’t exactly tell Greg that this was quite possibly the best moment of his career and that never thought that he would be in a pub with his teenage fancy. 

He cleared his throat and reluctantly let go of Greg’s hand. “I’m well,” he said. “How are you? Were you waiting long?”

Greg shook his head and sat down. “I’ve not been here for that long, just enough to have a drink after a meeting with David this morning.”

Mycroft sat down on the other side of the table, not quite believing that he was sitting at a table with Greg Lestrade. “Was it about anything interesting? I never knew that there was a meeting.”

Greg shrugged and inspected the menu. “It was just about my availability on Sunday mornings for the rehearsals. They are still going on, no need for you to worry and I’ll be turning up after lunchtime.”

Mycroft tried his best not to frown, pretending that he was not bothered that Greg was already picking and choosing when he could rehearse. He doubted that he could pull the same move let alone Greg. “Why not?” he asked .”Going to be sleeping off a hangover? That is what newer actors do.”

“Are you wanting to eat?” Greg asked, purposely avoiding his question. “I’m free for the rest of the day if you were wanting to do something. I assumed that you would be rather busy. “

“I have time to eat,” Mycroft said. “ It’s lovely of you to invite me for a drink.”

“I do it with everyone that I’m working with,” Greg said. “I reckon that if I’m going to be working with someone for a while, it’s always good to know them a bit especially with the amount of time that we will be together. 

He spoke in a way that made Mycroft feel rather special, almost important even though it was something that he apparently did regularly. He discreetly pinched himself behind his menu to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming, finding himself relieved that he wasn’t. 

His conversation topics were discarded after several glasses of wine, finding him caught up with Greg’s stories about being on set with the last film that he was on. The way that he spoke about his previous work made Mycroft feel as if he was on the set with him, never bragging about what he had done and who he had met but sounded rather in awe about being on a film set even though he had been a film set since he was nineteen and grateful for the opportunity. 

“Where did you go to drama school?” he asked Mycroft suddenly. “You must have some stories about your career. Your Wikipedia page makes you sound rather impressive especially with those awards you’ve won.”

Mycroft’s ears went pink, finding himself unable to speak. “It should say where I studied,” he murmured, “the Wikipedia page. RADA, if you insist on knowing. What about you?”

“The Poor School,” Greg said with a shrug. “It’s not RADA but I did have a good time there and I could afford it. I was working in a supermarket and a pub as well as studying might have had an occasional job here. I stayed there for a bit but left before the course finished, ended up getting my first proper job before my second year of the training program.”

“Was acting something that you were always interested in ?” Mycroft asked.

“I did fancy it after watching Star Wars when I was a kid but it wasn’t my plan,” Greg said. “There was an audition in the city hall back home for a show for teenagers, a bit like Grange Hill, and I ended up going with a friend to it for support, you know. I thought that I would audition as well, just to say that I’ve done it and I got a part.”

Mycroft bit the inside of his cheek and smiled politely at Greg, certainly not bothered that Greg seemed to stumble into acting with such ease while it had taken him two years after leaving RADA to get his first proper role. He knew that he would have disliked Greg immensely if he hadn’t been so delightful to listen to and if he wasn’t just so likable. It frustrated him to no end. “It’s lovely how you seemed to have done well so early in your career.”

“Reckon that it was more luck than just talent that got me where I am,” Greg shrugged as if he was talking about the weather. “I can imagine that you’ve had similar luck yourself. You were nominated for an Olivier Award two times and you’ve been with the Royal Shakespeare Company, not even mentioning that episode of Doctor Who! I’ve always wanted to be on an episode.”

Mycroft pulled a face at the mention of the Doctor Who episode, it was not his favorite performance and the reason that he did not care for acting on television, it had taken days from the green body paint that they used on him to go away even longer for the rash to fade. It was the only role that people seemed to remember him for and never for his work on stage. “If you ever get the opportunity, I do hope that you aren’t an alien as make-up takes hours.”

Greg grinned at him as he spooned a mouthful of cheesecake into his mouth, letting out a noise of pleasure. He pushed over the plate to Mycroft. “This stuff is just amazing!” he beamed. “I’ve usually had to be on strict diets and had personal trainers, they never let me have anything.”

“I shouldn’t,” Mycroft said, offering Greg a smile. “I’m needing to keep up my figure for the stage, thank you though.”

  
Greg let out an undignified snort. “You are a handsome bloke if you don’t mind me staying. The camera must love you even if you do flounce around on the stage.”

  
“I do not flounce,” Mycroft said quickly. 

Greg opened up his mouth to reply to him but stopped when he saw a teenager awkwardly standing by the table with a pen and a napkin in her hand, clearly a fan of some sort. She looked at them and quickly muttered out something, clearing her throat and asking for an autograph. 

Mycroft sat up and smoothed out the imaginary wrinkles out of his shirt. It had been weeks since he had been approached by someone asking for an autograph, always finding himself rather pleased when he was recognised even if he found the people tedious at times. 

He shrunk down in his seat when he realised that the girl had asked Greg for his autograph, feeling his ego deflated even more when Greg asked if he could take a photo of him and the teenage girl on her phone. 

He took the photo and watched Greg talk to the girl cheerfully as she asked questions about him when he was Night Howler in the Knights of Infinity film franchise, his most prominent role. He sat at the table unsure about how he felt about working with someone who was considerably more famous and recognized than he would ever be in his career. 

“Does that happen a lot?” Mycroft asked, knowing the answer once the girl had gone back to sit with her family. “Does it bother you?”

“Do people want to talk to me?” Greg asked, spooning cheesecake into his mouth. “Make the job feel a bit more worth it, knowing that people actually like the film. I know that some films got me through life when I was younger and I don’t want to spoil someone by being rude, it’s mostly teenagers and their mums who want to talk to me. It’s different when it is a convention, of course. What about you?”

“Occasionally,” Mycroft said, pretending not to be bothered. “Mostly for my television work and when I have been in a few period pieces. I tend to get lots of people at the stage door for me though and I’ve got fans who travel to see me whether I go, there’s also a fan page . I did get recognised on the tube the other day though.”  He carefully decided to leave out that it was from Doctor Who that someone recognised him from. 

He wasn’t too sure if Greg was impressed with his fact that he had a fan page or that people traveled to see him but he felt the need to put something out there. Sherlock was the more recognised one between the two of them even though his career was on the stage. 

“Did you always want to be an actor?” Greg asked, topping up Mycroft’s glass with the bottle of wine, his foot accidentally nudging Mycroft’s under the table. “How did you get started?” 

  
“My mother was an actress,” Mycroft said, thanking Greg quietly for the top-up. “She decided to enroll my brother and me into drama classes at a young age. She believed that it would help us stop being so shy and I’ve carried on ever since. I did use to love watching her at the theatre. Did you ever go to the theatre when you were younger?”

“Panto with the school but that was just it,” Greg replied, sipping at his glass. “I never had the chance.” 

“I can’t believe that,” Mycroft said in a tone of disbelief. “My parents had my brother and myself at the theatre every week practically. It is the only way to experience good acting!”

Greg put down his glass at the table and wiped his fingers with his napkin, giving Mycroft a serious look. “I am never one to make assumptions about people,” he said coolly. “But I take it that your mum never had to make the decision of if she was to have heating or going to eat.”

Mycroft closed his mouth and shrunk in his chair, wishing that the ground would swallow him up. He uttered out an apology, fearing that he had offended Greg to the extent that he would refuse to work with him. 

“How were you supposed to know?” Greg said. “I’m stupidly defensive about things, I’m sorry.”

Mycroft shook his head rapidly, realising that perhaps he did not quite know Greg as well as he thought. There was only so much that one could pick up from following his career and from his social media profiles, not that he had followed him of course, Anthea did it for him on his behalf, sending him Greg’s best photos to him through emails while he pretended to not care much for the ones of Greg shirtless or in a suit. 

“I should have realised that not everyone was as privileged as I was,” he murmured. “I very much get caught up in the bubble.”

“You don’t deal much with ordinary people, do you?” Greg asked, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “Did you ever work an ordinary job between roles?” 

“I worked in a cafe to prepare myself for an early role,” Mycroft offered. “I did not care much for it. I’ve always managed to have a job lined up when one ends.”

“I’ve been lucky enough to do that,” Greg nodded. “I thought that I could use the time away from the cameras though and stick closer to home for a bit.”

  
“You do have your girlfriend to think about, Sandra?” Mycroft asked. 

  
Greg shook his head and spoke in a low voice so that no one could hear him. “Sally,” he said. “She is just a friend of mine, she’s got a boyfriend. I’m not inclined in that way.”

  
“You like men?” Mycroft said, sounding more hopeful than what was deemed appropriate. 

  
“It’s known at work but not outside,” Greg shrugged. “My agent thought that it would be better for me to stay in the closet, after that reception that I got for that film I did years ago, we thought that it was best. I can remember a lighting guy making noises of disgust and nasty comments during this scene with a kiss.”

  
Mycroft cleared his throat, suddenly finding himself feeling rather brave. “That film that you did... it meant the world to me. It was the first time that a film really did speak to me and to see people...like myself have a happy ending,” he rambled on awkwardly, more stunted and tongue-tied than he would have liked to be. 

Greg nudged his foot under the table and winked at him with a smile, causing Mycroft’s stomach to twist up in knots. “It’s why I keep on acting, it makes it worth it to hear things like that. I think that we are going to get on just fine, Myc.”

“No one calls me that,” Mycroft said. 

  
“Can I call you that?” Greg asked. 

Mycroft pretended to consider the matter carefully even though there was little to think about, he would have allowed Greg to call him anything that he wanted to. “I suppose so,” he said, pretending to be unaffected by the fact that Greg Lestrade had bestowed a nickname on him. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments and support for this story! You have no idea how much it means the world to me and I wouldn't be writing without you guys!
> 
> Also, I keep referencing Mycroft's Dr. Who episode, not sure if he was a villain or not. If you have any suggestions for any questionable roles he was in, feel free to suggest away? It's been so difficult thinking of acting careers for Greg and Mycroft, so suggest away for me !


End file.
